


Here We Go Again

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Whee, i cant, i have better grammar in the story i swear, metallicaaaaa, omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Valentine's Day, and Stiles was all alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Go Again

It was Valentine's Day, and Stiles was all alone.

He'd always been alone on Valentine's Day, he'd never seemed to mind it. His mother was gone, dead and under the ground. His father worked late nigth shifts. The only person he ever saw after school was a possible Scott, where they would celebtare their loserdom and play video games until late night. But now Scott was gone too, deep into the wonders of Allison and Allison and more Allison. So this year was the first year he wouldn't even have the beauties of Scott.

But this year, Stiles has a plan.

His plan starts with roses. He buys plenty of them, goes to the floral shop and buys all of them. Red, pink, and black, because he knows black means death and he doesn't want his mother to think he's forgotten her, let her be a stone to visit a few times a year but that be it. He even puts a few orange ones in, because those mean desire and everyone who had the brains to observe him would know that the only thing Stiles had ever wanted was his mother alive and well again. He's so caught up with the loveliness of his dea he doesn't notice two green-grey eyes staring at him, curiousity filled with something else, and Stiles wouldn't be able to read them if he saw them anyways.

The next step is chocolate. His mother loved chocolate, could eat tons and tons of it without gaining a pound. Stiles goes to the sweet shop around the corner and almost buys out the whole store. Chocolate oranges, chocolate truffles, he buys those little heart boxes that have heart shaped candies inside them and even tries chocolate covered bacon, because his mother was funky like that. He throws them in a shopping bag, and doesn't see the man in the leather jacket hiding behind the candy canes.

The last step is iced tea. Dunkin Donuts, homemade, it really didn't matter, his mother had loved the stuff. So he parks his Jeep into the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot, orders two iced teas and a Valentine doughnut, one of those golden ones with pink frosting and white sprinkles that just screamed "CALORIES" and "LOVE" at the same time, Stiles couldn't really deny the fact that even he, with keeping his father eating healthy and hating to be a hyprocrite, just couldn't deny the sweet treat. He takes his drinks, shoves the doughnut in his mouth and resembles a chipmunk, before he tips the cashier and gives her a flirty wink, and bounds out of there like an overexcited deer. He barely misses the man with the brooding eyes come in right after he did, ordering a black coffee and humming Metallica.

He parks in front of the cemetery, holds his two plastic bags and bouquet of roses, as he walks towards the rose colored grave that's carved out like a bird, and kneels down gently in front of it. The flowers he'd planted about a year before are mostly withered, one is still a vivid red but it's dropping petals and only has three left. Stiles smiles pathetically, and because he's a perfectionist, takes them out of the ground, all the withered flowers and just gently sets them aside. He'll throw them away later, right now he just wants them out of the way.

He gives his mother her iced tea and her chocolates, and then he starts his tradition-babbling.

"Hi, Mama. I haven't seen you in a while. Sorry. I told you Scott got bitten, right? He and his werewolf buddies have been keeping me up a lot. I even had to run into a giant lizard with my baby, the Jeep, of course. I'm not having kids, not for a while, maybe not ever. I mean, Dad's driving himself insane and he'd probably teach them to shoot a gun before they could walk, anyways." He laughs. "They wouldn't be mine blood related anyways. Oh right, I forgot to tell you. I don't like girls. Well, maybe Lydia Martin, but Lydia Martin could turn any gay man bisexual, everyone except maybe Danny. Whatever, besides the point. I'd adopt a little baby, maybe two eventually, so we can have a brother who would beat the shit out of whoever touched his sister." Stiles laughs, and shakes his head. He's letting his mouth run away with him again.

"That's what I've been thinking about a lot recently. College. My future. I was thinking Berkeley, or maybe UCLA, or something around, I couldn't leave Dad, or Scott, or Melissa, or the pack. Then, I really want to be a teacher. That's never changed. I still want to teach little kids, kids too young to judge others for their race, gender or whatever. I don't know. Little kids are so cute, I'm jealous, Mama."

Stiles talks, sips his iced tea and munches on a few chocolates pretending to be sneaky. He laughs, tells himself he's funny and that's when the tears start to come. He's leaned the roses against the gravestone and starts humming to the tune that his mother had always sang to him, "Iris". He didn't know why he always liked that one so much, it just stuck to him for some reason.

"I don't want the world to see me." Stiles whispers, not to the tune of the song anymore but now he's just saying the words because they're the damn right truth. He doesn't like to be seen like this, broken and damned, beaten by the inner thought of the fact he had some part in his mother's death.

"Still can't believe," Stiles barely choked out, "Mama, I killed you. You were dying, cancer and chemo wasn't working but you were fighting, so hard. Dad was at work and I told you, I told you you didn't have to do this. You didn't have to fight for us, we were strong, not nearly as strong as you but we were strong. Dad found out, overheard, and when you died the next day, he was mad. So, so uncontrollably mad. He almost, he almost-" Stiles broke into a sob, his fingers clutching onto the light grass and tigthening them together, trying basically not to break.

He took another sip of his iced tea and wiped his nose. He hugged his knees to his chest, laid his head down, and tried to calm down. It didn't work well at all.

That's when his phone starts to ring. He picks it up and chucks it as far as he can in the opposite direction, watches it as it breaks apart on a gravestone. For some reason, it sets him off. This is the worst he's been in years, and he just doesn't know why.

"The phone didn't do anything to you." Stiles hears behind him, and he freezes. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Derek Hal followed him here, to watch him suffer.

"Go away." Stiles croaked. "I don't want you to see me crying over something that happened so long ago, especially when you've gone through worse."

Derek laughs at him.

Derek fucking laughs at him like in insensitive prick Stiles once thought him to be.

Stiles stands up, and slaps Derek across the face. Derek looks surprised, but Stiles is angry and sad and broken and Derek is laughing at him, because he's gone through losing all his family within a few years and hadn't cried publicly once. Not when he was accused of his siters murder, not when he was tormented by the pyscho bitch who torched his whole family, not once. It leaves Stiles in a wreck.

"Stiles, I didn't mean-"

"Go fuck yourself."

"Stiles, look, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking."

"Go rot in hell."

" _Stiles_ I was laughing because you were right, fucktard!" Derek curses, and Stiles glares at him. Because that fucking dick is lying straight to his face.

"I call bullshit. You just don't want Scott to flip out at you tomorrow."

Derek growls. "Stiles, shut the fuck up!"

"Go away!" Stiles screams. He's punching Derek with every vowel he speaks. He's so mad he would kill Derek if the fucker wouldn't heal after every bruise in a second.

"Stiles," Derek's voice was calmer now. His muscley arms wrap around Stiles and Stiles is still sobbing. Derek pets his hair and tries to calm him down, and suddenly they're on the ground, Stiles in curled up in Derek's arms with tears running down his face and snot everywhere. He wipes it on his sleeve and then gets grossed out and throws his sweatshirt onto the field, and then gets cold because it's February and his life sucks. But Derek is warm, Derek is warm and cozy and Stiles feels safe. Stiles cuddles into him and Derek continues to hug him, pet his hair and whisper soft words like "It wasn't your fault, Stiles" and similar things, but Stiles is still so fucking terrified of everything.

"Stiles, she was dying. You saved her. She was in so much pain and you helped her out of it. You are so, so, so brave." Stiles rubs at his eyes and they start to drop.

"Go to sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake."


End file.
